


the sun will shine from time to time

by weasleyspotter



Series: Ward x Simmons Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, It's really nothing but shameless fluff, Married from the Start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleyspotter/pseuds/weasleyspotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. One night, she runs into him (literally) right outside her bunk, and she’s exhausted, and she misses him, so the words just slip from her mouth. “I just really need to have you here right now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun will shine from time to time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alessandralee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/gifts).



> So one of the tropes that I really love in Clint/Natasha fanfiction is the Married from the Start trope. It's an overwritten trope, but I wanted to try my hand at it. So here's my word vomit, based off of alessandra's prompt "I just really need to have you here right now." Note, there is no Hydra in this.

In the beginning, she (like Fitz) does not care to leave the lab.

The lab is safe and comfortable, and she likes her creature comforts. She likes the sterile white walls, the creature comforts of home, and vast amount of knowledge she manages to accumulate in her few years with Shield.

She's confined to lab duty mostly, anyways. She's an asset that Shield is not willing to risk. She doesn't mind it all that much, because she loves the work. And she has Fitz. 

At least until she meets Grant. 

After a particularly terrorizing moment, when she and Fitz are nearly taken into hostile custody, because their skills are becoming too well known, he is assigned to be their glorified bodyguard. 

(The official title is Security Supervisor.)

All parties involved resent the assignment. 

Fitz mutters for weeks about whether there is a need for a muscular specialist glowering at them in the corner. She expresses legitimate worries about contamination and the specialist being able to follow lab protocol when he probably barely understands the scientific method. 

(Her supervisor makes an offhanded comment about how even her supposed bodyguard has put in a preemptive request for a transfer.) 

But despite all their protests, Agent Grant Ward arrives at their lab on a Thursday, while her and Fitz are arguing about the whether she should be allowed to store specimen in the food fridge when she runs out of room in the fridge designed for specimens. 

“Fitzsimmons?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and a look of intense displeasure in his eyes 

“Fitz,” Fitz call outs, pointing to himself, “Simmons,” he directs at her. “I’m engineering, and she’s biochem,” he finishes in a snide tone. 

Jemma rolls her eyes at Fitz, and heads towards the stoic specialist standing near the doorway in a suit. She holds her hand out for him. He eyes it for a moment, and then takes it. He has a firm grip. “It’s a pleasure, Agent Ward.” And then she optimistically asks, “Are you excited to join us on our mystery into the unknown?” 

“It’s like Christmas,” he deadpans, staring straight at her. 

At the moment, she notices that he has the most brilliant brown eyes. She had never found brown to be a fascinating color. It’s the color of dirt and chocolate, two things she appreciates, but not for the color. But his eyes entrance her. They’re brown, but they’re more than that. They’re filled with emotions she can identify immediately. Anger, resentment, irritation. And emotions that she can’t identify. 

They fascinate her. 

She pulls away from him, smiling, even though she’s pegged him as unfriendly and someone to avoid as much as possible, even if his eyes were burned into her mind. “Well it’s a pleasure, Agent Ward.” She says offhandly, walking away from the tall Specialist. 

Fitz points at an uneven stool they had unearthed from the basement a couple of days ago. “You can sit there.” 

(They might have purposefully picked the stool with one leg short. But they didn't admit to anything.)

Ward stares at it for a moment, before he strides over to stand near it, back stiff, eyes surveying the lab. 

Fitz shoots her a look, which she returns. 

This won’t be easy. 

*

“Fitz, can you please hand me—?” She starts without looking up from the samples she’s scraping off the plant sample an agent had brought in earlier that day. 

“Fitz isn’t here.” A voice says from right behind her. 

She whirls around, swab in hand, nearly jumping even though she knows the voice belongs to Ward. He had spoken so little in the few weeks he had been stationed with them that she had almost forgotten what his voice sounded like. 

“Agent Ward,” she gasps out, quickly drawing the sample closer to her, not wanting to infect him with whatever is on the plant, even if he isn't entirely pleasant to be around. 

“What do you need?” He asks, ignoring pleasantries, like apologizes for startling her. 

“Oh, erm.” She looks away as she quickly runs the inoculation loop through the bunsen burner, then moves to grab another fresh sample. “It’s not matter, I can get it.” 

“What do you need?” He repeats, his face softens a bit, making him look a little kinder, and if possible, even more handsome. 

She hesitates for a moment, still unsure if he meant the offer. “Could you hand me that petri dish?” 

He stares at the lab bench for a moment. His face is drawn in confusion as he carefully examines each item. She can tell that he’s not sure what a petri dish is, and she waits for him to ask for further clarification. But, surprisingly, he doesn’t, he simply stares as the answer will pop out at him eventually. 

“It’s the circular dish with the yellowish white gel on the bottom.” She clarifies, busying herself with the plant when he glances towards her. 

“Here.” He grabs the plastic container and hands it towards her. 

“Thanks,” she offers him a small smile, before she turns towards the Bunsen burner and busies herself with transferring the sample into the petri dish. She expects him walk away, to go back to his corner and glower, like he had been for the few weeks that he had been with them, but he doesn’t. 

She wants to ask him if he needs something, and she probably should. But she doesn’t, because he’s quietly watching her, and Fitz could never be so quiet. She realizes, with a start, that she’s actually enjoying his presence. 

“I swabbed the plant for a sample, and now I’m trying to grow a culture,” she explains, not even sure if he’s interested in an explanation, but wanting to give him. 

“Hm,” he hums, nodding along. He walks back towards his corner, and she feels a pang of disappointment. For a moment, she had hoped he had been interested in her a work in a way that no one had been before.

However, her hope isn’t in vain, because he simply grabs his stool and brings it back next to her. Sitting down, he continues to watch her, as she bustles about the lab, and she continues to explain her actions, with a soft smile on her face. 

*

They make it a habit. 

He sits in his corner when Fitz is around. It’s disappointing, really. She misses his company. But Fitz and Ward don’t get along well, and she’d rather avoid the fights, so she doesn’t say anything about it.

But when Fitz isn’t, he tugs the chair close so he’s sitting side by side with her. She explains her projects, and he hands her the things she requests. He gets better and better, and soon she doesn’t have to give him an explanation of which item she needs. 

She gets comfortable around him, and soon her professional explanations dissolve into absentminded chatter. 

She tells him about her day, what she did in the morning, what she ate, who she spoke to, how her favorite teashop might be closing. She tells him about her family, how she has a younger sister who married young and is now pregnant, how that fails to satisfy her mother’s thirst for grandchildren, how her father has always supported her love of science, but he doesn’t quite understand why Shield is the right choice for her. 

He stays quiet through most of it. He asks questions rarely, and he never offers information about himself. 

But she doesn’t mind. He listens, and that’s what matters in the end. 

*

She notices him. 

Romantically speaking, she knows her plus points and her weakness. She was not a prude at the academy. But outside the academy, getting noticed isn’t a common occurrence for her. 

She doesn’t mind it. Usually she’s too busy with the next problem on her plate to worry about boys. 

It takes time to notice him. But eventually, she finds herself swooning at the way that his gaze seems to soften as it lands on her. The way his voice doesn’t have the same edge as it does with Fitz when he speaks to her. The way that his hands linger ever so often when he's handing her something. 

She falls, and she falls fast. 

It’s a silly crush. Unrequited, she assumes, until the day she dies. 

He escorts her home every day after she’s done the lab, and that day is no different. He pauses on her doorstep as she takes out her keys. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Agent Ward.” She smiles at him, sticking the key in the knob, expecting him to walk away with a nod as he always does. 

Instead, he stares at her, unmoving. “I’ve been reassigned,” he blurts out. 

She falters, looking back at him with wide eyes. 

He clears his throat, looking away. “My request to be reassigned has just come back approved.” He clarifies. 

“Oh,” she says softly, wishing she didn’t feel so hurt. “Well that’s unfortunate.” She says politically, trying to keep the devastation out of her voice. “When will you be leaving us?” 

“Tomorrow,” his eyes are searching her face, and she’s not sure what for, but she’s not sure she wants him to find what he’s looking for. He's leaving her, after all. 

“Well,” she smiles brightly up at him. She wonders if her smile is too bright, because he winces. “It was a pleasure spending time with you, Agent Ward. I am grateful for your fleeting protection. And I wish you all the best on your future missions.” 

He nods shortly, looking away. He opens his mouth suddenly, like he wants to say something further. But then he simply shakes his head. “Fitz will be glad,” he says quietly. 

Jemma softens, because he's being kind to her, even when she doesn't want to be kind to him. “He puts on a good front,” she admits. “But he’ll miss you too.” 

Grant grimaces, like he doesn't believe her entirely. “I should go,” he takes a step back. 

“Of course,” she nods. However, she lingers at her doorstep, staring at his retreating back. She doesn't want him to go, not yet. He's halfway down the hallway when he stops. 

“Simmons,” he whirls around suddenly. He seems a bit startled to see her staring at him. “I,” he falters. “I didn’t want to leave.” He says finally. 

She smiles at him, a normal smile, a smile reserved for him, full of patience and kindness. “I know.” 

She opens the door, and that’s when the gunshot rings out. 

*

When she wakes, she’s in the hospital, and a nurse with a kindly smile is hovering over her. She fetches a Doctor who calmly explains that she was shot in her apartment. The bullet shot through her chest, though it was meant for her heart, she simply happened to be at an angle the intruder hadn’t been expecting. Agent Ward had managed to tackle her to the ground and take out the intruder before any more damage had been done. 

It missed her heart, and the damage is minimal, all things considered, but the doctor warns her it will take time to heal. 

“Is Fitz all right?” She asks worriedly, because if an intruder came after her, he would come after Fitz as well. 

“Mr. Fitz is alright, he’s in the waiting area, and anxious to see you.” The Doctor smiles down at her “If you’re ready for visitors, that is?” 

She nods furiously, and minutes later, Fitz is hurling himself into her room. She’s so distracted by Fitz's rambling, she barely notices Ward slip into the room behind Fitz. But her attention has always been drawn to him, even in the most inappropriate circumstances. 

“Agent Ward,” she gasps, surprised to see him still there. “I thought you would have shipped out already?” 

Exhaustion paints his face, and she wonders if he's got any sleep since she was brought to the hospital. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” The concern in his voice makes her feel lighter than any pain killer. 

She smiles at him, hope bubbling up in her chest. “I’m fine,” she assures him, trying to let him know that he could leave if he wanted to. 

He smiles back. “And I’m not leaving.” 

He comes to stand on the other side of bed and takes her hand. The moment he touches her, it's like all the pain in her body melt away, everything gets a little brighter, and she's sure that if it isn't for him keeping her tethered to the ground, she would have floated away. 

Fitz mock vomits at the sight. "I'll leave you two alone." 

*

He kisses her for the first time when she’s having a rough day. 

Her PT calls it quits just as she’s on the cusp of a breakthrough. The hospital food is especially tasteless. And her foul mood just prompts more pityingly looks from the nurses. 

By the time Grant walks into her hospital room, she’s sure there’s a black cloud of anger and hatred swirling over her head. And she’s expecting him to take one look at the expression on her face and turn around and march out. 

Instead he merely acknowledges it with a raised eyebrow and comes to sit by her bed. He takes her hand in his, and sits quietly. 

She waits for a moment, until she realizes that he’s waiting for her to talk, to open up. And instantly the anger melts away. Her day may have been awful, but Grant was willing to sit through it and listen to her, that meant everything. 

“It wasn’t a good day,” she admits quietly. 

He nods. “Tell me,” he prompts.

He listens to her entire explanation, which gets more and more heated as she recounts the events of the day. He doesn’t offer sympathies, and at the end, his hand tightens over hers. 

“I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice.

“It’s not your fault,” she waves off. 

“You wouldn’t be here,” he starts. 

She places a finger over his lips. “Don’t go down that path,” she warns him. “It’s not your fault.” 

He shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything more on the subject. 

Eager to change the subject, she smiles at him and says, “You know what would make my day better?” 

“What?” 

“If you kissed me,” she says with bravado she doesn’t know she possessed. 

To his credit, he only looks caught off guard for a second before he surges forward and kisses her square on the mouth. 

It’s awkward. He’s leaning over the railing of her bed at an awkward angle, because he’s still sitting down. And she tries to wrap her arms around his neck, but her IV line gets tangled. So she pulls back from him laughing at the pathetic attempt. 

He frowns at her, “That’s not good.

She struggles to control her laughter. “I’m sorry, darling.” She giggles. “It’s just I sort of imagined our first kiss to be a bit more fairytale, not in a hospital.” 

“I’ll show you fairytale,” he growls, and he stands up, lowers the railing and pulls her flush against his chest, silencing her laughter. He leans down and kisses her again. 

This time she loses herself in the feel of his lips against hers. She can’t think, she can’t remember anything except him. As her lips part and his tongue slips into her mouth, she thinks that she could die right now and still be happy. 

The door burst open, and she barely notices it, until the nurse, who opened it, gives a little shriek. Grant pulls away from her, still holding her against his chest. 

The nurse has her eyes closed and is apologizing profusely. “I’m sorry,” she blabbers, “It’s just your heart monitor,” she explains weakly. She quickly backs up out of the room as Jemma blushes a deep red. 

Grant’s chest begins to shake, and she glances up to see him laughing. 

“What?” She snaps, pulling away, because he may have given her the best kiss of her life, but she will not be mocked. 

“I kissed you and set off your heart monitor,” he chuckles. 

“I’m glad that’s such an ego boost for you,” she snarls, crossing her arms over her chest, turning her head away from him. 

“Don’t pout,” he says with a soft smile, the laughter leaving his voice. 

She turns her face towards him and juts her bottom lip out at him, for a good measure, and then whips her face away again. 

He chuckles lowly, then his hand reaches out and cups the bottom of her chin, turning her face towards his gently. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. 

Instantly the pout leaves her face. “Prove it,” she challenges him, a twinkle in her eye. 

And then he’s kissing her again. 

*

When she gets out of the hospital, they assign her to a minimal risk duty for a long time. 

It means that they are separated, because eventually he has to get back to his job. He’s too valuable to sit around with her.

He leaves for Budapest when she’s back in the lab with Fitz. 

He’s got a frown on his face that she can’t kiss away. 

“I don’t want to leave,” he admits. 

She knows that this is probably the first time he’s had a reason to stay somewhere, and that thought makes her hurt for some reason. 

“I’ll be here when you get back.” She promises him with one final kiss.

*

He proposes in Paris. 

When he sends her an encrypted message to meet him there, she takes the first plane out and tumbles into his arms at the airport, because it’s been too long. 

He laughs and swings her up in his arms. She kisses him until she feels dizzy. 

The most she sees of Paris is the inside of the apartment he apparently owns. 

(“It’s an indulgence,” he admits when she questions the practicality of it.) 

“I love you,” he murmurs in her ear at night when they’re naked and entangled in his bed sheets. 

And when she murmurs a breathless, “I love you too” he turns away from her. 

She sits up slightly, because she had thought he would have wanted to hear it back. She sees him riffling through his pant pocket. He pulls something out, and turns back towards her, an uncharacteristically nervous look on his face. 

He holds out a ring. 

He doesn’t say the words. He doesn’t have to. 

“Yes.” She shouts before launching herself into his arms. 

*

They get married in Italy. 

She thinks that it if it weren't for Shield, they would have married in Vegas, because they practically elope in Italy, and the beautiful location was simply a fluke. 

He shows up at the lab, bleeding and panting. She stitches him up, alternating scolding him under his breath and asking questions that he can’t answer, before they have to leave.

Grant knows Italian, and when they knock on the priest's door in the middle of the night, they play up the act of two crazy kids in love. 

(The priest doesn't know about the barely heal cut under Grant's shirt. Or that moments early, they had just escaped heavy gunfire, during which they had jumped to the conclusion that marriage was the best option.)

On a cliff, accompanied by the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below, they quietly promise to love and treasure each other as long as they both shall live. 

They don't have a honeymoon. 

He's still on mission after all. 

*

Rings are the only indulgence they allow themselves. 

They still have separate flats. She’s move back to England, and he’s got his place in Paris, which he sells, eventually. 

She can’t wear her rings on her fingers. No one knows of their marriage, and she works with volatile chemicals and can’t risk anything snagging on her gloves. He can’t risk the tan lines. 

On their wedding night, they slip their rings onto necklaces and take turns placing them around each others necks. 

“Now you’re married to me,” she pronounces happily. 

To which he laughs and asked if she really was concussed during their wedding ceremony. 

She kisses him to shut him up. 

*

She doesn’t tell him that she requested to be assigned to a field team, so when he walks into her flat with a sour expression, she knows that he’s found out. 

“Coulson, Jemma?” He asks angrily. “Really?”

“How do you know?” She asks him calmly.

He sighs and his tense posture relax instantly. “Because I got assigned to Coulson as well.” 

Despite herself, she feels her spirits rise. Shield has strict fraternization rules, and they had never gotten married legally speaking, there was no piece of paper declaring them husband and wife. The ceremony in Italy had been enough for the both of them. There is no paper trail of their involvement, so she understands why he would be assigned to Coulson’s team, he is one of the best. “Really?” She asks. 

“It’s not a good thing,” he warns her, but it’s softened by the smile on his face. 

“I don’t see why not,” she shrugs, a smile playing on her face, as she takes a few steps towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We’ll be together for the first time since we got married.” 

“Coulson is bringing on some girl from the Rising Tide.” He frowns, “I don’t trust her.” 

“So what are you suggesting?” She removes her hands from her hips and stares at him. 

He looks unsure for a moment, and instantly she knows she's not going to like what he has to say.

*

“FitzSimmons?” 

He’s at the top of the ramp when she finally notices him. Fitz successfully distracts her in the beginning with pitying looks and arguments about the Night Night gun. 

It feels like the first time. He’s standing in front of them, in a suit, a bag slung across his chest, a scowl on his face, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes that she recognizes. He’s teasing them. 

“Fitz,” Fitz points to him, “Simmons.” He points at her. “I’m engineering and she’s biochem.” 

Even though the introductions are unnecessary, no one is around, and Fitz knows about them. They still play their roles perfectly. 

Grant tells Fitz that Coulson sent him here to get fitted for his communication device. Fitz pulls the device out of his ear, and smashes it with a hammer, proclaiming it to be absolute garbage. And before he can protest, she sticks a swab in his mouth, holding his chin in place. 

“So,” she says conversationally, “Are you excited to be joining us on our mystery into the unknown?” 

“It’s like Christmas,” he deadpans when she lets go of his chin. 

It’s exactly like the last time. He’s stoic, and she’s got to keep her distance. 

Except this time, there’s a small smile playing on his face. And that makes all the difference.

*

All things considered, Jemma actually likes Skye. 

There’s a small part of her that wants to resent the girl’s presence on the Bus, but Skye’s sweet and nice. And Grant doesn’t trust her, but he offers to be her S.O., so Jemma thinks that maybe he doesn’t trust her yet, but he will soon enough. 

It only gets worse, though. Because they find Skye in bed with her former hacker boyfriend. And though Grant claims this to be damning evidence. 

Jemma sees it for what it is. Skye just wanted to be with a person she cared about, and Jemma can relate to that. 

So when everyone stares at Skye with anger and betrayal in their eyes, Jemma stares at her with understanding. 

*

Despite everything, they do a good job of keeping everything under wraps. 

He claims the bunk next to hers. She requests his presence in the lab frequently for professional reasons (sometimes just because she needs him to grab something off the top shelf). It becomes so frequent that no one is ever surprised to see them around each other. 

One night, she runs into him (literally) right outside her bunk, and she’s exhausted, and she misses him, so the words just slip from her mouth. “I just really need to have you here right now.”   
He looks confused. “I am here.” 

“You know what I mean,” she mumbles tiredly, rubbing her eyes in frustration. 

His face softens. “I miss you too.” He admits, and for the first time she can see him. Her husband. 

She’s about to lean towards him, to kiss him, to remind herself that he is there, he is real, when Skye walks in. 

“Ward,” she’s looking down at the box in her hands. “I found it.” She looks up at them, surprise crosses over her face. 

“I’ll be there in a moment,” Grant turns away from Jemma to address Skye. And he waits for her to back down the hallway, before he speaks to her. “I have to go.” Regret laces his voice. 

“I know,” she smiles sadly. 

He lingers for a moment, regret playing out on his face. 

“Go,” she gives him a small push in Skye’s direction, and tries not to feel too hurt when he walks off. 

*

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Jemma looks up so suddenly; she nearly knocks the safety goggles off her face. Skye is perched on one of the lab tables, fiddling with her tracking bracelet, looking much too nonchalant for such a loaded question. “Why are you asking?” 

“It’s just a question, I’m trying to get to know you.” Skye says, looking amused by Jemma's reaction. 

Jemma tries to relax, but she’s always been a horrid liar. “It’s complicated,” she tries, hoping that the answer is enough of the truth to let her get away with it. 

Skye nods absentmindedly. “Isn’t it always?” 

Instead of agreeing, Jemma busies herself with the sample in front of her, hoping that Skye would drop the subject, but her hopes are in vain. 

“So is your complication anyone I know?” Skye persists. 

Not trusting her voice, Jemma simply shook her head. 

“Is it someone famous?” Skye asks, her voice growing higher with excitement, “Like an Avenger?” 

Jemma shook her head again. “I’d rather not talk about it.” Her voice is strangled and she knows she sounds too desperate. 

But something in her voice stops Skye. The other woman pauses, staring at the biochemist worriedly. “Okay,” she says quietly, hopping off the lab table to come and stand right beside Jemma. She places a warm hand on Jemma’s shoulder. “But if you wanna talk about it, I’m here for you.” 

Skye's words relaxes her and she shoots Skye a genuine smile, “Thank you, Skye.” 

*

Just when she thinks that she can keep it a secret, she gets infected. 

She knows that Coulson doesn’t understand when she tells him to tell Grant it wasn’t his fault, but he doesn't question it. She doesn't know if Grant is watching her as she knocks Fitz unconscious when it becomes obvious that the antiserum isn't going to work, but she still looks up at the camera when the ramp is opening up and mouths the words, "I love you." 

There's an actual pang in her chest when Fitz wakes up too early and starts banging on the glass separating them. She can see him scream for her, but she can't stop, not when it'll save him, save all of them. So she makes him watch her tumble from the ramp because it’s the only way she knows how to protect them. 

She can’t say she’s surprised when she sees Grant hurtle himself out the plane after her, but she hates the sight. 

It can’t be like this. He can’t die, not with her. 

Yet, he’s a trained skydiver, and he knows the angle his body so that he catches up to her. He snatches her up in his arms and injects her with something. 

“Ouch,” she says, muted by the roar of the wind.

He pulls the string on the parachute, and suddenly they aren’t falling, but floating. 

“Antiserum,” he explains shortly, as they float towards the water below. “Can you swim?” 

She nods shortly, unsure of what to say now that she’s not about to die. 

“I need to cut the parachute loose as soon as we hit the water, otherwise we’ll get tangled up in it.” He explains, not meeting her eyes. “They’ll rescue us soon.” 

Again she nods, because her mouth is suddenly dry and she can’t think of what to say. 

They hit the water harder than she expects, and while she’s gasping for breath, he cuts the lines. In mere moments, his arms are around her, and he’s supporting her. 

She waits a moment, expecting him to speak, but he's still steadily avoiding her gaze. “Are you mad at me?” She blurts out.She knows it’s childish and she half expects him not to respond. 

“I’m furious.” He bites back, staring at something in the distance. "The rescue shouldn't take too long," he informs her.

She ignores the information. She considers apologizing, knowing that's probably what he wants, but she jumped out of the plane for a good reason. “I’m not apologizing.” She says shortly, angry that he’s angry at her. 

He lets out a short breath. “I’m not surprised.” He’s quiet. “I knew this was a bad idea.” He sounds like he's scolding himself. 

“Bad idea?” She asks incredulously. “That wasn’t your decision to make.” 

“Jem, I’m your husband and you barely consulted me.” 

“Because you would have said no.” 

“And I was right.” Grant gestures around them.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m alive. All’s well that ends well.” 

“Because I jumped out of a plane after you,” he snaps back. “Otherwise you would have died.” 

There’s a note of pain in his voice that stops her. Her hands come up to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes. 

“I thought you weren’t going to apologize.” The anger leaves his face and he just looks tired. 

“I’m not sorry for jumping out of the plane,” she explains. “I would do it again in a heartbeat.” 

“Then why are you sorry?” 

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.” 

*

When they’re back on the Bus, Coulson scolds them, then congratulates them, and it’s all very confusing. 

She’s going to suggest they give up the act and go back to her room together when Skye interrupts them with a soft, “Simmons.” 

They break apart and Skye wraps Jemma in a warm hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Skye says, pulling away to stare at Jemma. 

“I’m fine,” Jemma assures the woman. “Thanks to Grant,” she says shooting her husband a look. 

“Grant, huh?” Skye asks, pulling Jemma’s attention back to her. 

“Oh,” Jemma says shortly, “Well he did jump out of a plane for me and—.” 

“You don’t have to explain,” Skye waves off, “I know. Actually, we all know.” 

“How?” Jemma asks, the smile falling off her face. They knew. A quick glance at Grant informs her that he shares her confusion. 

“Your comms were still on,” Skye explains with a small smile. “We heard your conversation in the water. So married huh?” 

“That’s none of your business,” Grant says shortly. 

Jemma shoots him a look, “Nearly a year,” she answers Skye’s question. 

“Wow,” Skye drawls. “How’d you do it?” She directs the question at Grant. 

Confusion floods Grant’s face. “What?” 

“How’d you get Jemma to marry you?” Skye asks teasingly. “Like she’s a wonderful kind person, and you,” Skye eyes him up and down, “Well, you’re a robot.” 

“Go away,” Grant orders her, a stern look on his face as Jemma breaks out in laughter. 

“I guess it’s the abs,” Skye muses. “Is it the abs?” She directs the question at Jemma. 

“Now,” Grant barks, “Otherwise you’ll be doing laps for the next week. 

Skye sticks her tongue out at Grant. “You just want me to leave so you can have sex.” 

“Yes,” Grant says, just as Jemma assures her that’s not the case. 

“Grant,” Jemma says appalled, slapping Grant in the chest. 

“Fine,” Skye interrupts with a pout, “I’ll leave. Just know this,” she eyes the two of them, “I know it’s probably been awhile for you two, so please keep it in the bedroom and be quiet. We don’t need to know what you two are doing, and the Bus doesn’t need to be christened.” 

Grant growled at Skye as she gives a small giggle and races out of the room. 

“You know she’s right,” Jemma muses thoughtfully. 

“What?” Grant looks at her, instantly distracted. 

“It has been awhile,” she says with a devilish smile. 

He smirks down at her, wrapping her up in his arms. 

“Quick,” she murmurs in his ears, “don’t want to let the adrenaline burn out.” 

Neither of them keep Skye’s words in mind as they race towards the bunks.

**Author's Note:**

> What'd you think? I'm taking a microbiology class this quarter, which is why I feel a bit more scientific when writing about specimen transfer into Petri dishes. Also I took the scene with Grant and Jemma and the heart monitor from Red Band Society, obviously not entirely because they're not having sex, but I thought it would be fun. Please kudos and comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
